My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  No. Rosie shook her head fast. She didn't need to use her mother's diplomatic skills. She needed her father's approach of doing what she wanted and apologizing if caught, and also a helping hand.

  The caravan members were scattered across the palace, the princess and her entourage in the east wing, and the security based parts in the west. Somewhere the servants were left as well, but she doubted her help would be there. Tucking her robe tighter in place, Rosie hustled quickly down the winding staircases that opened onto the mezzanine. The foyer slept sullenly, shadows creeping across the fountain and shifting their Lady's angelic face into a deep scowl. Trying to shake off the fear it was personally against Rosie, she hurried up.

  Arriving at the west wing she turned down the hall and then froze. Two men stood guard over the door that opened upon their suite. Damn it, why didn't she expect this? Of course there would be guards, it's nothing but guards in there. But why were they watching over the room? You'd have to be an idiot to attack guards.

  With her breath hitching in her throat, the princess faded back against the wall while she eyed up the two men who seemed bored out of their minds. Their languid eyes barely managed to remain open, chins drooping from exhaustion. Maybe she could knock them out? Convince them they were needed elsewhere? No, if they saw her there'd be a lot of questions, and both Avery and Ser Daryan were getting too suspect about her decisions. This would send them over the roof.

  "Hey," one of the guards suddenly called and Rosie slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from yelping. Did they see her? She could claim she was on a walk.

  No, sleepwalking. That was a thing people did.

  The second guard snorted and wiped a hand over his eyes. "What?"

  "Time to shift," the first one said and without so much a by your leave, the pair of them wandered down the hall right towards Rosie. Barely thinking, she yanked up a pile of decorative curtains and slid her body under them. It was as wise a hiding place as a four year old would choose. Her toes stuck out of the edge, her form nowhere near as flat as the wall.

  She was sleep hide and seeking? Maker, you're an idiot.

  Cringing hard, Rosie screwed up her eyes on the assumption if she couldn't see them they wouldn't see her. All she could hear through the curtain was snorting and men grumbling about the lack of sleep. Please don't look. Don't ask any questions. Just keep...

  A shadows drew across her exposed toes, the dark line slicing against her pink white skin before it moved on. She waited a few more minutes, making certain they really did slip out of view, before Rosie emerged out of the curtains. Blessed Andraste, how did Myra do any of this?

  Her heart was banging about in her chest like a bird trapped in an attic and all that she risked was a few guards raising an eyebrow at their errant princess. There were no villains with a knife in the shadows, no chasing down a fleeing suspect on horseback. Rosie wasn't certain if her half-sister was made of stone or completely mad to live the life she did, often without thought.

  Certain she was alone, and no one else was about to come around the corner and order her to halt, Rosie gripped onto the door and stepped into the guards' room.

  Okay. There's a lot of grey lumps scattered across the floor. Now what? She needed one lump in particular, probably kept alone but not too far out of fear of it vanishing. The air permeated with stale sweat, the heat of the day amplifying courtesy of so many bodies in once place. Luckily, extra loud snoring covered up any sounds of Rosie padding her feet across the floor.

  She eased herself around a pallet holding a man fully splayed out on his back, only for her to nearly trod onto another's foot. Squeaking in surprise, she danced up onto her toes and then paddled quickly away. The move was so unexpected, her body tried to shift out from under her, Rosie hopping to compensate. Her eyes hunted over a dozen slumbering bodies, doing her best to not step on anything and ruin this.

  Somehow in doing so, she bumped against the window itself where the moonlight was waning to lance upon a sliver of the floor. Curled up on a bedroll that seemed to have its own island was her answer. Okay, Rosamund. Now what?

  Trying to ignore the rattling of her heart, or the shake beginning in her fingers, Rosie padded over to the black figure that looked so helpless in the arms of sleep. Lips dangled open a bit, not a snore but a gentle susurrus of wind whistling against the white teeth. Scrunching down, Rosie slipped her hand over the mouth. The trembling increased as she felt the warm breath tickle her palm.

  "Hey," she barely whispered, shaking into the shoulders with her other hand.

  The body tensed up below her, a hand grabbing onto her elbow as the owner realized there was a hand cupping over the mouth. "It's me," Rosie gasped out, praying she didn't wind up flipped on her back. "Rosamund."

  In an instant, the knotted up muscles washed away. Anjali spun on her side to look up at the woman standing over her like a burglar in the night. "Princess?" she barely breathed, clearly hoping for an explanation.

  "I need your help," Rosie tried to explain, her voice barely reaching past her lips.

  The assassin's eyes darted up and down the white figure lurking over her. It was doubtful she could make out what Rosie said, the princess too scared to speak any louder, but Anjali smiled and nodded her head. Grinning in response, Rosie moved to slide back, when she realized she was still holding tight to Anjali's shoulder.

  By the pale moon and washed out colors of the night, Rosie's cheeks turned a blinding red. She tried to babble something while scooting away, when Anjali popped up to her feet and placed her hand to Rosie's mouth. A lifetime of calluses born from the grip of daggers skirted against Rosie's bottom lip and she fell silent in an instant.

  With a smile, Anjali held a finger to her lips to tell Rosamund to be quiet. Of course she knew that. This was her plan. Absently, Rosie mouthed her bottom lip up against the sharp callus dug into the pad of Anjali's palm. Upon realizing what she was doing, the princess staggered back, removing herself from the assassin's grip. She waved her hand towards the door all while wondering why she did that and how it could feel good.

  Light on her feet, the rogue easily skipped over the sleeping piles of men before scuttling towards the door. Rosamund was more careful to close it, checking one last time to make certain no one knew she absconded with the assassin. Out in the hall, Anjali stretched her arms wide then turned to find the princess.

  "You probably want an explanation of why," Rosie began, but Anjali laughed softly.

  "To have a beautiful woman rouse me in the middle of the night? Not normally, but I assume you needed me for something important."

  "That's..." How was she put off kilter so quickly by this woman? All it took was a single smirk by candlelight, her dark skin glistening like an ebony ribbon and Rosie felt her brains melting to slush. It was foolish. She had faced far more charming foes in her day. "I do, but we should move before the guards catch us."

  Taking the lead, Rosamund led Anjali up the stairs towards the higher floors where the Teyrn managed his private affairs and such. "Guessing by the secret nature of you breaking into the room instead of stomping in and going all 'I'm the princess, do as I say' this probably isn't sanctioned," Anjali asked from behind.

  "No, it's... I don't want anyone else to be made aware of my actions."

  "Then you came to the right sneak thief," she said before snorting, "Even if I did tell the truth, no one would believe me. Baby Knight in particular."

  Rosie nodded her head as if that had been her plan all along. Of course, she was always thinking two steps ahead. It was all logical, no...nothing else at all. "You did promise to assist me in any matters I put to you."

  "So I did," Anjali smiled wider. "And I did mean any matters to pop into your beautiful brain."

  She wasn't a fool. Rosamund knew innuendo when it was bandied about. She grew up around a dozen cousins that were all older than her. While they were in their teenage thrush of hormone addled lust, Rosamund was a curious ten year old struggling to under
stand. It'd all make sense one day, they assured her with giggles. As she grew she came to understand the words but not the spirit. It seemed...complicated. Flirting was one of those skills that, much like leather working or smithing, just wasn't worth her time.

  Then why did she want to say something smart back whenever the assassin messed with her? To dip her voice down into that growl whisper other women could manage while her breath twirled into Anjali's ear? Was it knowing that she was probably being used that made it all the more thrilling? What did the consequences matter if...if most likely nothing would come of it.

  Not that she wanted anything to, um... Maker's sake, she needed to stop spending so much time around her brother and sister.

  "I need you to break me into the Teyrn's study," Rosamund said, pitching back to all business.

  "Hm," Anjali tipped her head as if she was weighing the moral costs of such a dubious suggestion. Rosie was about to explain why it was necessary, when the assassin smiled, "Okay."

  "Just...you don't want to know?"

  "Oh Sapheela, I never want to know on a job. Merely get in, do it, and make sure I get paid."

  Rosie gulped, "There won't be any monetary compensation." Whatever coin she had was in the pockets of the advisors. Maybe Myra could sneak something out, but then she'd wonder why and put things together far too quickly.

  "Well," the woman leaned closer a moment, her taut and graceful body barely an inch away. The heat lancing off Anjali to Rosie's shorter form created a new tremor up her spine. "I'm certain you can think of something else much better than boring ol' gold."

  Dumbstruck, Rosamund sucked in a deep breath which caused her chest to rise. With a subtle flicker, Anjali's eyes darted down to watch the swell before she stepped back. "Which way to the Teyrn's office?"

  "This..." Rosie gestured absently, her hand cutting through the air, her words falling to mush as her brain went the same route.

  They met no resistance while crawling about in the Teyrn's private chambers. Not even a hint of a guard's boots on the stairs or a dog padding past. It seemed as if everyone was snug in their beds and had no idea a princess and assassin might be lurking through the castle.

  When they reached the door, Anjali snatched onto the latch and lifted it. Yanking back, the door stuck tight and she sighed, "Locked."

  "Of course it would be," Rosie insisted, her cheeks burning bright. Why else would she get the assassin if she had no other way to get in?

  The woman shrugged, "You'd be surprised how many times I go to break into something only to find it left wide open. Doors, chests, chastity belts." With that final lascivious thought, she dropped to her knees and began to prod into the lock.

  Rather than sleep in her leathers, someone was kind enough to give Anjali a long sleep shirt. It was formless and genderless, the type many in the castle would pop on when bed called, but she'd had to make it her own. The front ties were barely closed, exposing the top of her cleavage which bounced too and fro as she dug into the metal door with a small pick. She knotted a scrap of fabric around her waist, giving the comfortable bag a far better form. In doing so, it also tugged the normally calf-length shirt up to her knees revealing a tendril of red ribbon tattoos snaking down the outside of her right leg.

  "Her Majesty is staring," Anjali's voice laughed, causing Rosie to whip her head up towards the sputtering, single candle sconce. She patted both hands against her elbows, her body struggling to find anything to do as a distraction from being called out.

  "I was only, your tattoos..." Rosie swallowed, wishing the woman would finish with the door already. Being eaten alive by the floorboards would also be preferable at this point.

  Anjali turned away from her rising tumblers to look down her leg. "Ah," she smiled, "you like them?"

  "They're so...elegant. Like diving off a cliff into the waters below, but leaving your body stretched out behind before you breach the surface," Rosamund babbled, her fingers drifting nearer a moment through the air. But she yanked them away quickly and bundled both behind her back.

  Humorous umber eyes met Rosie's and the assassin smiled, "Here I always thought it was a ribbon. Tell ya what," she pushed on her pick and then raised the latch on the door. As it skidded inward, she said, "We finish in here and I'll show you some of my other ones."

  "There are more?" She'd heard tales of the intricate tattoos popular among the sailing class to help identify souls lost to the waves, but she never pictured them as so striking. They were always described in books as 'image drawing of galleon ship.' 'Ink drawing of man's sweetheart in portrait.' Rose assumed they were all quick doodlings done on the deck of a ship before the storm set in.

  The assassin stepped away from her handy work and slid her pick back under the hair kerchief from which it emerged. "Many more," she cupped along her stomach, the ribbon fluttering with perhaps an inked flesh breeze, before lifting her fingers up to directly under her breasts. That...

  Rosamund gasped at the thought of there not only being ink bled into the flesh in such an intimate area but that she wished her to see. "Ah," waving a hand over her burning face, she slid around the exhibitionist assassin to enter into the Teyrn's office. Trying to dampen down the awkwardness with a cool drink of night air, all the while her heart thundered 'you want to see.'

  "What are we looking for exactly?" Anjali asked, tugging back the door and letting it rest open a sliver. "Or is this more a case of breaking into the Teyrn's stuff and wrecking it all up? If so, I think I know where I can get a crowbar and..."

  "No," Rosie held a hand up, emotions swelling in her stomach. This was the first person in all the lines who were devoted to her that actually cared about how the Teyrn treated her. The advisors gave a light tongue clucking, and her handmaidens all giggly ignored it. "I'm looking for a message off of a raven's leg."

  "Well that'll be easy to find," Anjali laughed while extending her hand around the vast study. For whatever reason Rosie expected to find one like her father's. A small fireplace with chairs around it, a desk with most matters shuffled off to boxes labeled 'important' or 'boring' and piles of his children's knickknacks everywhere. This was a blighted library.

  Books scaled up to a reach beyond even Gavin's stature, cases circling the room. There was no fireplace, no doubt due to the flammable reading material, or even comfortable chairs to recline upon. Someone hung curtains upon the far side of the room where they would flank a normal hearth. Decoration?

  Anjali seemed to be curious about them as well. She drew back one of the dark brown curtains to reveal a gap into the wall. "Probably where all the servants shag when no one's looking."

  This wasn't helping. Rosie needed to find her father's message. She spotted a candlestick left unattended upon the desk, a flint piece sitting near. No doubt the Teyrn had intentions to return to his messages at a dark hour, or preferred to be prepared. Striking light, a flame illuminated a bloody sea of paperwork stretched across the desktop.

  "Maker's balls," Rosie groaned. The stacks were easily four or five vellum letters thick and there were dozens. It'd take forever to read it all.

  Okay. She didn't need to pry into all of the Teyrn's private business, just find the note. It should be small, which would mean easier to misplace. But it's from the King so it should be considered... Damn it all! Sometimes Rosamund wished she had a tenth of her sister's skills at reading people and predicting them. Myra treated it like a parlor trick, or something as forced upon a person as lute lessons, but it would give Rosie an unmitigated edge in politics.

  Trying to shake off the fear of failure in the air, Rosie shifted around the Teyrn's messages hunting for anything that may be a hint to what he was up to with her father. Beside her, Anjali slid up to the front of the desk and absently prodded into a few letters.

  "I hope it's not prying more than a little old assassin should, but are you looking into the Teyrn's personal letters? Trying to dig up some blackmail? Because I know it's far easier to just bribe a few servants than..
."

  "No," Rosie interrupted, her fists full of vellum as her eyes kept darting back and forth over lines. "It's a message from my father, actually."

  "What? Worried the King will be plotting against you?"

  At that Rosamund's fists both thudded to the desk, her jaw dropping. "Never. My father he...he loves us too much. Thinks we can do no wrong, gives us every opportunity we can have, and coddles us as if we're still in nappies. It's frustrating."

  "Yeah," Anjali's face fell a moment, her cheekbones seeming to slide towards her chin as she slunk back, "must be terrible."

  "I know he's keeping something from me and I just..." Stupid, Rosie. You just let an assassin into the Teyrn's private chambers. Let? Blessed Andraste, you brought her here, encouraged her to break in. She doesn't need to be informed of every high security matter that could be facing Ferelden.

  Trying to ignore the woman who was sliding around the room to study the books, Rosie dug back into her work. Vast swathes of paper shifted from one side to the other. She was trying to keep it in order, but it was growing maddening. There was no system here beyond utter chaos. The chance of finding one small message in the sea of words was as impossible as discovering a lost diamond ring in the belly of a dragon.

  Tempted to give up and slink back to her room in disgrace, Rosie began to yank upon the drawers. It was more a distraction than anything, but in doing so she spotted a sheaf of paper. Half of it looked like a shopping list but the other began "To King Alistair."

  Freeing it from the drawer, Rosie hoisted the inked words to the candle to read, "Your message was received and weighed. Yes, we are looking into the matter as are all with a vested interest in this problem. If things do not change soon we will be forced to deal with the..."

  No! She flipped the sheet over, but there was nothing but blank space behind. Damn it. The Teyrn must have abandoned his letter before finishing it. Damn it all! There had to be more, another attempt, a second draft. Perhaps he was going to be more apologetic to his Majesty. Or make more references to all the large fish and game he recently caught. Never apologize for making the King's eldest daughter feel as tall as a mouse, that was for certain.